


Flying Dreams

by JulieArchery107



Category: Sherlock (BBC)
Genre: Cranky Rosamund, Mycroft is a Softie, Mycroft is good with kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:16:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieArchery107/pseuds/JulieArchery107
Summary: ometimes it takes a man with a heart of ice, to sing the most beautiful of lullabies.





	1. Chapter 1

"Flying Dreams"

Chapter 1

"What hides beneath the ice."

Every child has a day in which everything, absolutely everything, is bothering them and there is no comforting them. Their favorite toy refuses to work its usual calming magic, the bottle full of milk is being pushed away and, both hug and lullabies, only result in the poor infant's kicking and screaming getting louder.

Rosamund Watson, since her temperament comes from her father's side of the family, hasn't had a day like that ever since she was brought back to the flat from the hospital...

That all changed when she started growing her first teeth.

"Rosie, sweetheart, please stop crying." John pleaded with his screeching daughter that was kicking her legs against his chest and punching away the bottle he was trying to feed her with, after the second hour of nonstop wailing. "I know what you're going through must me painful but daddy's tired, auntie Hudson is tired, and even uncle Sherlock is tired…" But it was to no avail, the small child refused to listen, opting to further increase the volume instead.

They all tried, one by one, to calm her down.

John showered the girl with hugs and sweet lullabies that worked miracles in the past.

Sherlock, using his powers of deduction, tried to find her favorite toy or guess what temperature the milk had to be for her to finally drink, only succeeding in making a bigger mess in the room.

Ms. Hudson decided to give the child a tummy message figuring that, perhaps it will distract the girl long enough for her to fall into slumber.

But nothing worked, not even a little.

Having enough of all the noise, after nearly four hours of fussing, the three occupants of Baker Street decided to lock themselves in the detective's bedroom that was on the same floor, leaving the child in the living room in her crib to cry all she needed, and wait out little Rosie's hysteric episode.

Covering his ears John never before wished so much for Mary to come back from the dead for she, being the little human-siren's mother, might have been the one to calm her down.

As it was, even the ever helpful internet was of no help, the solutions proposed were either proved useless or declared useless by Sherlock, calming them to be the work of internet trolls.

It looked like the detective duo and their landlady would have to spend the rest of the day listening to the little Watson screeching her lungs out, but, just as they were beginning to accept their faith, a miracle happened.

Rosie quieted down to mere sobs and delicate humming could be heard from the living room, indicating an intruder in the flat.

Both Sherlock and John were ready to barge into the room and pounce the mysterious person for getting so close to their precious Rosie, but before they could take more than two steps towards the door…

The intruder started singing.

"Dream by night,  
wish by day  
Love begins this way."

The gentle lyrics, sung in a smooth velvet voice they were sure they recognized from somewhere, hung softly in the air, filling it with calmness and the feeling of security that reminded the good doctor of his childhood: the smell of pancakes in the morning, the feeling of his father ruffling his hair and the times his mother tucked his tiny frame in a warm bed after a tiring day.

They sounded like home.

"Night's a friend  
with love to send  
Each new day"

Looking at each other the crime fighting duo slowly made their way towards the closed door, the song getting louder with every step, as if inviting them to come and listen to its soft tunes.

"Bless you heart  
Bless you soul

Let your dreams come true  
Future songs and flying dreams,  
Wait for you"

Now that they were so close to finding out who was, John found himself getting cold feet.

What if it was one of their neighbors thinking they were neglecting the child and, after calming the girl down, will go and report on them to the police?

What if it was a client that came to Sherlock with a case and stumbled across the crying child?

What if-

Sherlock successfully stopped his silence wonderings by quietly opening the door, revealing…

"Love it seems  
made flying dreams,  
so hearts could soar.  
Heaven sent  
these wings were meant  
to prove once more,  
that love is the key."

Mycroft Holmes.

Easily the last person John would expect to be able to comfort his screaming daughter, let alone sing such a beautiful lullaby with the word 'love' in it.

Though…now that he looked at the man, he did feel kind of…different.

"As you wish  
as you will  
Dream a flying start  
Love and care  
The power's there  
Trust your heart  
Trust your heart"

It was as if it wasn't Mycroft Holmes he was looking at, only a completely different person. The room felt warmed by his very presence, in contrast to the coldness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin, as he gently rocked the sleeping child in his arms. His usually cold and aloof eyes were now soft and filled with care for the tiny human being in his arms, as he hummed softy before placing Rosie back into her crib.

It was at that moment that John Watson figured out what changed.

The Iceman mask was gone.

What stood before was the real Mycroft Holmes.

And, seeing the drastic change, the doctor just had to ask himself:

Who hurt him so much to make the man hide his heart under an armor of ice?


	2. Chapter 2

"Flying Dreams"

Chapter 2

"What brought the freezing cold to so warm a heart."

Just like Sherlock once wanted to become a pirate, Mycroft also had plans for his future that differ greatly from the job he ended up occupying in adulthood.

When the elder Holmes was about four years old he wanted to become an artist, spending most of his time in his room drawing pictures of the birds that landed on his window.

With every completed picture the boy's sketches grew more complex and gained more details, earning him a proud pat on the head from his mother whenever he presented her with one.

Perhaps he would have grown to be a well-known painter, if it wasn't for his mother's older brother Rudolph 'Rudy' Holmes.

One day he found the, then five-year-old, Mycroft helping an economics student with his math homework, while his parents weren't home.

Taking notice of his nephew's higher-than-average intellectual potential, Rudy decided to groom the poor child into becoming the heir to his Government throne.

From that day on the red-haired Holmes barely spent any time at home, his uncle constantly taking him on 'trips' so that he could mold Mycroft into the man he needs, without any interruptions from the boy's mother.

With all the commotion regarding planning for another baby, neither parent noticed the changes in their already existing child.

They didn't notice how Mycroft's beautiful drawings stopped popping up.

They didn't notice how the easel he practiced on ended up burning in the fireplace.

They didn't notice how their once happy and passionate little boy, became quiet, cold and distant.

By the end of the first year of Rudy's tutelage the red-haired child was wearing a suit every day and following the news reports almost religiously.

But the real training didn't begin until a year after Sherlock was born, during Mycroft's eighth birthday.

That's when he learned why developing the Iceman mask was necessary.

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They've been driving for over an hour now according to the clock in his uncle's car and Mycroft's calculations.

The surroundings were no longer recognizable to the chubby eight-year-old, a fact that hinted to him that they were not going to one of uncle Rudy's office's, like they did countless times before.

"Uncle Rudy?" He asked hesitantly from his child seat in the back of the limousine.

"Yes, my boy?" The older man turned around and looked at the small child from behind his glasses.

"Where are we going?" Mycroft asked, fiddling a little with his fingers and staring at Rudy with wide and shiny blue eyes. "This isn't a road we took before…"

Rudolph chuckled before gracing his nephew with a soft smile.

"You're as attentive to detail as always, my dear boy. That is correct, we are going somewhere else today."

"But… why, uncle?" The red head pressed the issue. "Weren't we going to help the Prime Minister with some economic problems today?"

"The lesson I'm going to teach you today is far more important than some petty problems that idiot can't handle on his own." Rudy scoffed and moved his left hand in a dismissive motion. "Unfortunately said lesson cannot be taught anywhere else but at today's destination."

"Oh… okay, uncle." The eight-year-old sighed and turned towards the window, a small nearly forgotten part of him wishing for a scratch-book and a piece of coal.

"But, if you're bored, you may solve the crossword puzzles that I hid somewhere in the back with you."

The boy's eyes immediately lighted up.

"Really? Thank you, uncle!" Mycroft chirped as his tiny hands searched around for the promised puzzles.

Rudolph looked back at the small ginger, a sad smile on his face.

"Happy birthday, my dear boy." He whispered, before turning his attention back to the road.

Two hours later Mycroft, who fell asleep halfway through the crossword book, was awoken by the car skidding to a slow stop.

Yawning, the small child rubbed his hands against his eyelids to get rid of the sleepiness, when his uncle opened his car door.

"Do wake up, my child." Rudy said, ruffling Mycroft's curly hair. "We have arrived at our destination."

The eight-year-old blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust to the light, before allowing the elder man to unbuckle his seatbelt and place him outside the vehicle.

Looking around Mycroft noticed that they seemed to be in some kind of underground bunker, with solid rock walls surrounding him on all sides, the only source of light being a small lightbulb hanging over his head.

There were other people in the hallway with him and his uncle. Five in total, three men and two women, hiding around in the shadows, staring at the both of them. There was a high possibility that they were all armed to the teeth, though Mycroft couldn't say for sure with this limited lighting.

"Uncle Rudy…" The red-haired boy whispered clinging tightly to his guardian's pant leg. He might be a genius, but he was still a small child in a room full of people he didn't know.

"How many do you see, my boy?" Rudolph asked, keeping his voice even and composed.

"Five." Mycroft answered without missing a beat. "Three males and two females. Probably heavily armed though that is yet to be confirmed."

He flinched when he felt a hand on his head, but relaxed when he realized it was his uncle.

"Correct as always." Rudy said, his voice proud. "As threatening as they may look, they happen to be on your uncle's paycheck. You need not fear them."

With that in mind the eight-year-old let go of the pant leg, but did not move away.

"Now…" The elder of the two cast a sharp look to the shadows. "If you could be so kind as to escort us to the main hall? We're expected."

Said shadows gave no verbal response, only stepped to the side so that they could pass.

"Thank you." Rudolph nodded to them, before stepping forward. "Come, Mycroft." He reached out a hand. "We're already running late."

It took exactly twenty minutes and fifty three seconds for them to reach the so-called destination, according to the little Holmes's calculations.

A large metal door which Rudolph pushed open after a brief conversation with their escorts, revealed a dark room filled with sharply dressed agents.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive our tardiness." The elder man said to the people gathered in the dark room. "We've experienced a small hold up at the boy's house that has been out of our control." He stepped in after receiving a few nods in greeting, Mycroft hurrying after him. "Now that everyone requested is present, I believe we can begin."

With the command given, a light went on in the dark room, illuminating a kneeling figure under a stone wall with hands bound behind his back.

"Alex Murray." Mycroft saw the figure, identified as a male due to his beard, look up at the sound of his uncle's voice. "I trust you are aware of why you've been brought to this location."

The man nodded, head low.

"Good. Is there anything you'd like to say before we proceed?"

It was obvious no one expected him to say anything, as the question was only asked out of common decency, but he did anyway.

He probably wanted to speak up in his defense, but abruptly changed his mind when he noticed little Mycroft staring at him from behind his uncle, eyes large and full fear.

"Just… just take the child away." Murray rasped out, spitting out blood. "He doesn't… he shouldn't be seeing this."

"I'm afraid that's one request I cannot fulfil." Rudy spoke, voice hard and cold as ice. "The boy is here to learn a very important lesson." He then placed a hand on Mycroft's head. "He stays."

Alex Murray looked distressed at the news that a child will bear witness to something so horrible, but otherwise said nothing else, choosing to bow his head instead.

Taking that as his cue, Rudy then turned to his young nephew.

"Do you realize what's about to happen to that man, Mycroft?"

The boy looked up at his guardian, then back at the man.

"I… believe so, uncle." The eight-year-old whispered.

"Do know the reasons why?"

"No, uncle. I was not informed of such."

"Please…" Murray whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Reconsider. Don't do this to him… For Christ's sake, he's just a boy!"

But Rudolph ignored him once again.

"All of this is happening because he was weak, my dear boy." The elder then shot the pleading man a disgusted look. "Even knowing the dangers that came with his occupation, he let himself get caught up in the trap called 'caring'."

"…" Mycroft felt an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, as those words left his uncle's mouth.

"He felt it wise to marry a woman and father children, foolish fool that he was." Rudy shook his head in disappointment, for the man had been a very promising recruit. "Alas, as it is with all traps known to mankind, once its teeth sunk deep enough… the poachers came to collect their prize."

"…" The boy said nothing, only swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the knot that formed around his neck.

"The enemy threatened to dispose of all of them, should the demands fail to be met." The man scoffed. "Mr. Murray being the naïve imbecile that he is, believed the enemy will stay true to their word, if he acts as demanded."

"…" The uneasy feeling began to grow in Mycroft's small stomach, making him feel slightly sick.

"A week after the kidnaping, delicate information was leaked into the public and Mr. Murray got his family back in pieces."

"…" Mycroft swallowed again, this time to keep himself from throwing up his lunch, due to the images that began playing in his head.

"I hope you realize what I'm trying to teach you here, boy."

"…Y-Yes, uncle." The child answered uneasily.

"Good." Rudy nodded in approval. "My plan to name you my successor is no secret to you, dear child. I've always been open about said intentions, doing my best to prepare you for the time when you shall take my place as protector of the United Kingdom."

"I understand, uncle."

"With all the lessons you are yet to learn, I fear today's will be the hardest one of all, dear boy." He placed his hand on the child's shoulder. "For today you shall learn what happens to people like us… when they care too much."

A gunshot was heard…

A man was dead.

And a piece of Mycroft Holmes was murdered along with him.

For he learned what happens when you care too much.

You see your loved ones get killed before your eyes…

Then…

You die too.

Because the man wasn't brought in by force…

He came to them.

Because anything's better than knowing everyone you care about is dead…

While you're still here, breathing.

'All lives end, all hearts are broken…

Caring is not an advantage.'

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'I shouldn't be doing this.'

Mycroft thought as he walked over to the crying baby in the crib.

'I shouldn't be doing this.'

He thought as he picked little Rosie up and began humming.

'I shouldn't be doing this.'

He thought as he felt the Ice wall he built around himself begin to melt.

'I shouldn't be doing this.'

He thought as the song he once heard in a Don Bluth movie, pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

'Is shouldn't be doing this.'

He thought as he began singing that song to the calming infant.

'I shouldn't be doing this.'

He thought as she finally calmed down enough to be placed in her crib.

'I… shouldn't… be… doing… this.'

He thought, body shaking, as he let go of the little Miss Watson and covered her with a blanket.

He covered his eyes with his hand, barely holding back from all the emotions treating to spill over now that the ice has been melted.

'I shouldn't have done that…'


End file.
